“One drink,” he repeated. Perhaps more for himself at this point than for her.
He sat at the table and dropped his head into his hands, almost missing them with how heavy his head felt. He ignored the shuffle he heard, assuming she was merely shifting her position on his bed. Onhisdamn bed.
But then he sensed her beside him. When had he closed his eyes? How long had they been shut?
She was passing him his drink.
“All right, one drink,” she acquiesced. Though really what choice did she have since he was the captain? He was far larger than her and he was the one in charge. He was the captain of this devil of a ship.
So he took another sip. What harm could one drink do?
If in fact it had only been one drink, it probably would not have done much harm at all. Likely he wouldn’t have even noticed any alcohol in his body at that point. But it hadn’t been one drink. He had lost count, which wasn’t his typical behavior.
And now that he was thinking about it…damn…he shook his head unable to clear his thoughts. Wait…one drink…he took another sip…one drink…right? Her silhouette turned blurry in front of his eyes, so he shook his head, thinking somehow that might sober him up.
Sobering him up was the last thing it did. He could feel a lurch of his stomach, which it never did when he drank, and his eyes were heavy, as if they were holding up bags of stones, which they never felt.
He looked at his drink. Blurry. He lifted his head—no, he didn’t. He couldn’t. He tilted his head as it fell to the table. The last thing he saw was a look of absolute shock, dread, and…unmasked relief on his Siren’s face.
Damn.
Darkness.
Chapter 10
DRUGGING A MAN? THAT’S what Agatha had succumbed to? Really? And not just any man. Not even a really bad man. (Did that make it better or worse? She wasn’t sure.)
“Oh my God, what have I done?” Agatha’s hands were on either side of her head, squishing it. What was she hoping for? Thoughts to pop out? Did she think that by squeezing her brain she might push out an answer? A justification? A rationale that a sane (or even semi-sane) person would accept?
“Oh my God,” she muttered as she paced the room. For sure this was her losing her mind. She had drugged a man with the valerian her sister had given to her. Of course she hadn’t used all of it, just a few drops in hopes that it would make him calm down. Well…he was calm all right. He was calmed all the way down. The man was unconscious. He couldn’t be any more calm if calm was his middle name. First name! Damn it, the man was calm.
Her palms were sweaty enough to polish a dirty pair of boots right now. And her heart…Oh God…was that what was hammering a hole through her chest? What was she hoping to have happen here? Drug him. Stay on the ship. But how? She needed him conscious.
KNOCK. KNOCK.
Agatha threw herself at the door.
This was the worst possible thing that could happen. What the devil was she going to do now? No one knew she was on board. No one knew her. She wasn’t safe here. What if the men tossed her overboard? Sent her home? Or worse? She shuddered. Thank God the door was locked.
“Captain?” A raspy voice called out. “It’s Big John, we’re setting out now. You coming up?”
Oh my God, what was she going to do?
“Captain?”
Her throat in her chest, Agatha grunted. It was her best impression of Jude that she could manage with her nerves.
“You good if we set out?”
She grunted again.
“You drunk?”
Another grunt.
It seemed as though Big John was buying it because he chuckled and said, “See you in the morning.”
All of her nerves swelled through her body and she closed her eyes. Turning around, she pushed her back against the door and slid to the floor. Her head dropped to her knees. Who the hell was she? She didn’t even recognize herself anymore.
